Adventures In Jerseyland

I just returned from my inaugural trip after Afghanistan II on the Army’s behest to go forth and do… stuff.  This one took me to New Jersey.  I’m not sure right now whether or not I’m better, lesser or no-win for the experience.

Like all of my previously described adventures on your taxpayer dollars, I flew too long to somewhere I’d rather not go to sit – and stand – for longer than I’d personally prefer to do this:  Talk.  Yeah, people at my seniority level I essentially get paid to return email and go places to… talk.

Suffice it to say I’m in an elevated position over that described in my prior travel adventures… I no longer have to focus on technical detals as much as I have to know everything.  I have to do this now because I’m representing a full Colonel, and as such I have to use all of my words, all of the time.  This got interesting, and this is how:

The Flights:  I flew into Filthadelphia, which made it a challenge to begin with.  For some reason, Pennsylvanians like to make thier street navigation as challenging as humanly possible.  I barely survived the short journey to the Walt Whitman Bridge to facilitate my hasty exit from that town.  Layover – Chicago is still fucking there.

The Empty:  My normal travel companion, Fred, elected to remain with my Mom and also elected to eschew pants as he has always done since I’ve known him.  Fred decided, upon my safe return from Afghanistan, that his charter to watch and protect me had expired, and promptly moved back in with Mom.  Last I heard, she made him chicken fried steak.  Fucker.

The Car: The rental agency, normally one that hooks me the hell up, issued me a Prius.  Yeah.  So after spending twenty minutes of my life that I will never get back figuring out how to start the goddamn box, This is much like messing with your high school girlfriend who is aroused but doesn’t know the definition of ‘horny.’   I finally got underway to Fort Dix-McGuire-Lakehurst.  Historical note: Lakehurst Naval Station (of course, the Navy) is the site of the Hindenburg’s fiery exit from existence… a chilling precursor to my trip.

The Drive:  Query — Jug Handles… WHAT THE FUCK, PEOPLE!?!  And I’m thinking that I’ll not reside on the North-East coastal region because there’s little warning for off ramps, little consistency for naming roads (they seem to blend together), and asking directions of mailmen (I did) involves a language translation that needs Star Trek level technology.

Jersey:  Yo, Pauly!  You can have Jersey.  I was hoping to hook up with a certain tiny Snooki-Italian, but I guess I don’t have enough spray-tan going on for her.  That, or I wasn’t close enough to the “shore.”  Maybe it’s that I’m too tall… or too huge of an asshole.  I’m betting on the latter.

Military Facilities:  Take three military bases, all pretty close together, and stitch them together into one base. Army (we Men), Air Force (girls) and Navy (fellators), and you have Joint (weed) Base McGuire-Lakehurst-Dix.  Emphasis on the ‘Dix.’  Easiest military post to get lost on, topping even the fucking Pentagon in my personal experience.  The five-side day care center only has five sides to reference.

The Room:  Must have been fucking haunted.  I did not get a decent night’s sleep the entire week.  Between having burqa-woman explosion nightmares and the three repititions of the dream where I was put to death in prison for murder, I was running on fumes by the time Friday and my flight home came.  Fuck yeah!  Crazy-ass dreams, dude!

The Work:  Stand there.  Listen… act interested, and say shit that sounds intelligent.  This is what I do.  Call people, do email.  Poop.  Mission complete.

The Next Adventure:  Air-insertion into Georgia…

Me:  I so goddamn, fucking LOVE being me in all my fucked-up insensitive glory.

Someone come and shoot me, please.

96 Responses to “Adventures In Jerseyland”

  1. You are one mad SOB man! Anyway, good luck with that whole trying-to-stay-sane-amidst-the insanity- thing…no one can blame you for tryin’ man…Respect in the meantime REDdog

  2. Jug handles: Jersey’s solution to keep out visitors.

  3. At least you know what to expect. Maybe circumstances will change up and you’ll find paradise…but probably not.

  4. whiteladyinthehood Says:

    Maybe Georgia will better. (and I think Fred left you for Mama Rants because she cooked him chicken friend steak and you cooked him cauliflower)

  5. Okay, so here’s the skinny on Jersey (from someone born and bred there): there are three New Jerseys. One: North Jersey (AKA the land of Sopranos and Snookis). Two: Central Jersey (AKA the land of the capital, Trenton which, when properly pronounced, sounds like “Treh-en”). Three: South Jersey (AKA the land of Atlantic City, blueclaw crabs, and where Garden State comes from). Cheesesteaks are a staple in all three. “The Shore” refers to any easternmost area touching the Atlantic Ocean, but for those of us from the third Jersey, the waters off that area are best… 😉

  6. So many things rattling around my head…
    1. Be thankful for no nookie with Snooki. That shit has got to be diseased.
    2. Who or what is Fred? A dog, or is that your woobie?
    3. You know how I feel about Prius’s. aren’t you tall? How did you fit in the car that goes ziiiiip when you drive off? You must have looked cool.
    Do you ever get out west? I’d be willing to be the guinea pig to meet you. Just don’t be surprised if I came armed, just in case.

  7. i’m sure Fred will come around. Chicken-friend steak is hard to resist, but it’s only temporary and your mom’s heart was probably in the right place, keeping him happy while you were gone.

    As for the Prius, that’s a slap in the face that you shouldn’t have had to endure. No one should, but especially not someone in your position.

    As for Snookie, you’re probably better off.

    As for the dreams. . . .wow.

    I don’t mean for this to sound smarty-pants…welcome home. 😐

  8. haha funny stuff.

  9. All that, and you still missed Trenton – as much as possible. 🙂

  10. Innnnnteresting….

  11. Pre- karma for the fellator comment!

  12. Melanie Says:

    Jug Handles sounds pornographic. Or is it just me?
    Those dreams are the worst; they feel so real (ex-husband here, not war, yours are worse, I’m sorry you have to endure that).
    If you’ve time for a blogger meet up while in GA, I think I remember mentioning BBQ the last time you talked about being in GA (your ACOF post). My treat.

  13. The Elite of Just Alright Says:

    Hey, fuck you for the Philadelphia jibe.

    Also does it bother you that, even briefly, we were approximately 25 miles in proximity to each other?

  14. Oh Rants, you really don’t want to be shot do you? And if you do, you are obviously not really trying hard enough

  15. Hahaha “language translation that needs Star Trek level technology.” And yes on this, “Listen… act interested, and say shit that sounds intelligent.” Heart. Great post!

  16. Whenever I hurt myself or re-hurt something I’ve previously hurt, hubby asks if he should go get the gun (to put me out of my misery). Lately, I’ve been saying yes more often. Would you like him to go get his gun for you? Sounds like you had a helluva trip!

  17. Great humor! “Maybe it’s that I’m too tall… or too huge of an asshole. I’m betting on the latter.” hahaha This post reminds me of Tucker Max…if Tucker Max were in an esteemed position in the army he would sound something like this.

  18. All this and they give you a Prius?
    No wonder Fred changed loyalties…one does have an image to maintain

  19. Welcome to the wonderful world of New Jersey. You’ve listed many of the reasons I detest the Garden State, and I don’t even drive.

  20. Daniela Says:

    You see – this is IT! This is why I admire your blog … for sentences such as: ‘much like messing with your high school girlfriend who is aroused but doesn’t know the definition of ’horny.’ I do not have handle enough of English to write like that (but would like to -:)). And for what is worth; my day job consist almost entirely of : show up, try to sound smart (aka: ‘blind them with bullish), listen, try not to fell asleep … I am SO over it!


  21. I will not shoot you, because you dissed Chicago. Apologise, and I might just cap your butt – as a personal favour. :p 😀

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